[Can't you just imagine all the refugees from hellcannon bursting out of a blizzard onto the tundras of this world, screaming in terror as they fled from the undeath?
]
Eric ran down the stairs as fast as he could. Faster than one should ever attempt to run down such a cramped stairway. He stumbled, tumbling down maybe a full story before catching himself, but seeing himself unharmed he got up and kept running. The smoke was thick and nauseating enough to kill a human, but dwarves needed little oxygen, keeping an extra supply of oxygenated blood in their otherwise worthless livers, and using their high alcohol content in conjunction with their beards to scrub free oxygen from the air. He could hear another stumbling down the stairwell behind him, panting, and a full minute after he'd reached the bottom, the now-draconic Hugoluman lurched down the last flight of stairs and stumbled headlong onto the ground in a rather clumsy manner. Eric surveyed the damage; the bottom floor of the stack was now filled with magma, which was exactly as it should have been, but there had been a massive explosion that wiped out the platform directly above that was meant to house the first of the pumps. That could be rebuilt. Unfortunately, there was also a massive section of the roof near the other end of the room, where magma was meant to pour in to feed the pumps, that had collapsed, and magma had shot out across the entire structure, making it hazardous to even stand on the stairwell as he was.
It was just as he'd feared; the magma here was part of a massive plutonic chamber, viscous and cool, comparatively, of intermediate composition with massive levels of dissolved gasses. There had been no mining designations set to be dug down here currently, but stuck into the wall on his right was a copper pickaxe, the wooden handle very badly charred. Some fool had come down to prepare the gate area and link it to the magma sea, probably hoping to get some praise for working ahead of schedule. But in this case the schedule was very, very important, and the idiot was dead. He'd intended to wait another week for some sort of mechanical automation to be made to puncture the hole and avoid any loss of life.
Hugo was staring at the spectacle, silent. So, Eric logically asked the dragon, "would you mind taking one of these boulders down there and plugging up the hole at the other end of the room? I understand dragons are perfectly at home in the magma, and I need that hole plugged before this gets any worse."